Detrimental Love
by breakingsam
Summary: Edward and Bella are both troubled beings and are both undergoing treatment in an adolescent mental health ward. They've formed a special bond but what happens when Edward gets worse and it's not in Bella's power to fix him. Will Bella try to live even if Edward isn't? This story will be awfully triggering and therefore rated 'M' for suicide, self harm and other mature context.


**Detrimental Health**

* * *

I knew I wasn't in the right position to fall in love. I knew I wasn't in the right state of mind to feel these feeling for another person. I knew I was a mess and that I needed to focus on myself but then Edward walked into my life and I was a goner.

"Please, you need to tell me what's happened to Edward," I cried as the alarm was pulled and I was surrounded by staff restraining me to the floor. "Please," I gasped threw my tears as I tried to overpower the strength of 6 people holding me down.

One nurse had a hold of my head on the floor. Another two made sure my arms were immobile as well as another couple making sure my legs were rigid and one more nurse was sat on my back to make sure I wasn't thrashing.

"Bella, you need to calm down so we can let go of you," one nurse said in her eerily calm voice. "This is getting no one anywhere and you're causing more harm than good for yourself."

I didn't care though. I didn't care I was fucking up all my progress. No one was telling me what happened to Edward. No one would just tell me he was ok. That's all I needed. I just needed to know he was alive. I just needed to know he's still breathing. He promised me he'd fight. He promised me that as long as I'm breathing and pumping blood around my body so would he. He promised we'd be together once we're out of this hell hole. He promised me so much but what if Edward was just another person I'd put my trust into and they'd just destroyed me, chipping away at my being, making me crumble into nothing. I know I shouldn't have put my trust into him. I knew he would hurt me in the long run but Edward had _promised_.

By now, my tears fell silently, as staff thought I was settled enough to start letting go of me. Everyone cleared but still I lay there crying. I had no energy to fight them anymore. I had no energy to care.

My named nurse came over and sat by my side as she slowly stroked my back.

"Bella, if you're in a relationship with Edward do you realise how much damage this is going to do for both of you? We have a no relationship policy. Bella, you are in no fit state to contemplate being with a person. You are unwell and you were admitted here to get better not to be with someone who may detrimental to your mental health," she said firmly, trying to make eye contact with me.

I wasn't listening though. Angela, my named nurse, knew nothing. I may or may not be in a relationship with Edward but I couldn't deny what I felt for him. I couldn't deny what was in the pit of my stomach every time I thought of him.

"Just tell me he's ok," I whispered.

"You know I can't do that, sweetie. You have no right to know about Edward's health. You know you shouldn't even know what's wrong with him or what diagnosis he has or why he's here, Bella."

I slowly sat up, pulled down my sleeves over my hands, and hugged my knees tightly into my body as I rocked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Edward was rushed to hospital early this morning and I have no idea why. I have no idea if he's even alive. I don't know if he's cut to deep or he's actually succeeded in…no, I can't say it. He promised me he'd always be alive tomorrow because when tomorrow came it'd be today therefor he'd need to keep breathing for the morrow.

Why hadn't he come to me if he was struggling? Why hadn't he said anything when we'd stole an hour or so while everyone was in the courtyard reading? Why hadn't he mentioned anything in our notes we always slip to each other?

For the past 7 months, since being admitted, I'd told everyone who felt for someone in here that they couldn't enter a relationship as everything is false in hospital. This was a false sense of security. This wasn't the real world. The real world was scary. The real world hurt. The real world would crush anyone who'd let it. A lot of people in here also don't want to get better, therefore a relationship would be awfully detrimental to those who due actually want to overcome the demon that is mental health.

But I'm a hypocrite because I feel for Edward. I've spent the past 7 months with him and he's seen me at my worst as I, him and yet he still cares, or so I thought he did.

We'd have our secrets and we'd have our dreams. We've discussed everything from the worst moments of our life to what our first words were.

I hadn't told Edward this but I'd made a promise to myself to make him love himself as much as I love him, as much as his family loves him, as much as every patient in here loves him.

He didn't deserve his depression. He didn't deserve all the sadness he felt and I'd do anything in my power to take that away from him. Every time I saw his arms, my broken heart would shatter somewhat more. Every time his sleeves would accidently roll up and I saw his scars or fresh cuts he'd hide them and blush and look away feeling ashamed. He needn't be ashamed. I have an idea of what he feels every time he takes blade to skin. I know in myself what it does for me and from what Edward say's we share the same thoughts on 'cutting.'

I knew pretty much everything about him. His ways of self-harm. His ways of coping. His ways of fighting. His ways of loving. So why, oh why, didn't he mention something was going on? Why didn't he come to me? Why on earth is he in hospital?

By now I'd locked myself in my room crying. Every 15 minutes, nurses were checking my observations window and every now and then they'd ask if I needed to talk to someone. No. No, I couldn't talk to anyone because no one would tell me about Edward.

My head was spinning and my stomach was churning as I went through every horrible situation I thought Edward had gotten into as I lay on my bed.

Unconsciously, my hand went to chest where I started to scratch gently. I did this when I was sad, especially when it involved love and my heart. The pain in my heart became too much so to overcome that I scratch my skin raw to try and feel something else. One of my ways of harming, pain, coping…

Seconds, minutes, hours later my skin was burning and I could feel the cold droplets of blood dripping down my chest slowly. Why does everyone I care for hurt no matter how hard I try to fix them?

The same thing happened to Charlie.

Oh Charlie, I'm so sorry for what happened.

Around 10 that night a nurse came in with my night meds and I took them robotically before lying down again.

"Bella, you need to sit up again, sweetheart," she whispered. "I need to clean your chest up." And with that, she rubbed my chest with alcohol and dressed it before she lightly scolded me for my coping strategies but told me things would get better.

How does she know that? I've had 6 years of this battle with my head. Who's to say it'll end now after all this time?

I don't want to find out if it gets any better. Not really. But I promised Edward to breathe if he would. I'd happily live for Edward if it meant him getting better. I'm not worth it anymore. I can't fight for myself. I can't live for Bella Swan but I swear to God, if Edward's still alive he'll feel my wrath and I'll do everything in my power for him to get better again.

* * *

**I own nothing. **

**I have no idea where this story will go or if I'll continue it but I feel this may help me as I'm going through a similar situation right now. **

**Thank you for reading. x **


End file.
